Snap
by Maribou
Summary: There was only so much human cruelty a person could witness. It finally dawned on Greg that he was near his limit. NickGreg


**Title**: Snap

**Author** : Maribou

**Rating** : NC-17 for spanking, rimming, and general dirtiness.

**Warnings/Spoilers**: Mild references to _Playing With Fire_ and _Grave Danger_.

**Summary**: There was only so much human cruelty a person could witness. It finally dawned on Greg that he was near his limit.

A/N: Thanks to Quettaser for the beta! Written for the No Pressure Porn-A-Thon at the ngchallenge community on LiveJournal.

Greg knew that the job was getting to him. It wasn't obvious at first; without even realizing it, he'd grown used to the long hours and the gruesome things he catalogued during shift after shift after shift. He'd always thought of himself as a cheerful person, and his sarcasm and quirky sense of humor did a lot to keep the burnout at bay. (Love helped, too.) He'd thought himself immune to those stresses that wound his co-workers tighter and tighter, but even the strongest and most resilient of men have a breaking point. There was only so much human cruelty a person could witness before he became filled with dark dreams and a helpless rage. It finally dawned on Greg that he was very near his own limit.

It wasn't his fatigue that clued him in. He was still young enough that squatting for hours on a blood-spattered sidewalk or lying for too long under a car with a Maglite clenched between his teeth didn't cause any lasting discomfort. Most days all he needed was a hot shower and maybe a beer when he and Nick got home, and he'd be fine.

What tipped him off was this: coming out of that hot shower, toweling his hair with a scowl, he entered the bedroom to find Nick stretched out on his stomach in nothing but his briefs, with reading glasses perched fetchingly on his nose and the sports section spread out before him on the bed.

Nick looked up and gave Greg a deceptively casual smile as he shifted and let his legs spread a bit wider. The light from the television splashed over him, making his grin look dark and flashy. Nick was recording something on ESPN: even with the volume off Greg knew; he could tell by the logo.

"Hey," Nick's voice was pitched low and sweet, meant to entice even as he turned away and pretended to read. "Grissom called."

"Oh?" Greg let his towel slide onto the floor as he sat down on the edge of the bed, angling himself so that Nick would be able to watch his cock get hard, and close enough that he could rest his hand on Nick's back, just above the elastic of his briefs. It was white with a thin line of red and blue running through it, and scratchy against the edge of Greg's fingertip.

Nick ignored him and turned the page with more rustling than necessary.

"What did he want?"

"Who? Oh, Grissom." Nick shrugged and lazily bent his knees, idly circling his feet until he kicked Greg in the shoulder, the nose, just hard enough to piss him off.

"Well?" Greg couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice, and he grabbed Nick's ankle a little too hard.

"Would you relax, please?" Nick's voice, usually so soothing, made Greg want to grab his paper and crumple it into a ball. He imagined the anger that would flash across Nick's face, quickly tamped down and then washed away with a resigned look as he realized there'd be no more reading tonight, regardless.

"He said something about your evidence logging," Nick continued, unconcerned, now into the comics section. He rolled onto his side, facing away so that his ass was pressed tightly against Greg's thigh. The thick cotton felt good rubbing against his skin, and Greg swept his palm downward and gave Nick a playful squeeze.

Nick mumbled something and then laughed, suddenly and to himself.

"What are you— Are you laughing at the goddamn Jumble?"

"Grissom said you left something out on the counter." Greg frowned and tried to think what it could be. He was sure he'd logged everything in properly. He hadn't misplaced evidence since his first week as a CSI, and the resulting cold, exasperated look on Grissom's face was enough to keep him from making that mistake again.

Nick carefully removed his glasses and folded his paper with one hand. He was still lying down, facing the muted television with the other arm tucked under his head. Greg watched him set his glasses aside, and then push the paper onto the bedside table. He pushed too far and the paper slid off and hit the carpet. Greg could tell from the swishing sound that the pages had come apart and were probably littering the floor. That was his side of the bed anyway, what was Nick doing putting his paper there for fuck's sake?

"So careless," Greg said under his breath.

"That's what I told Grissom," Nick rolled over then and fixed Greg with a sympathetic look. "It's not like you don't have good procedure. You just get sloppy sometimes."

"Thanks," Greg snarled, aiming for sarcasm but realizing he just sounded catty and hurt. Nick sat up and stroked his arm. He was warm against Greg's side and he smelled good, like almond soap. Greg felt a strange, heaving fury rise within him.

"It'll be okay," Nick ruffled his hair and poked him in the ribs. "You're just sleepy." He followed that statement with a yawn and a baleful look at the clock.

"I'm not tired," Greg shot back.

"Baby, have you looked in the mirror? You have bags under your eyes. You're wrecked." He pulled at his arm, trying to get him up and under the covers. "Come on," he coaxed. Greg flinched and pulled back, though he didn't know why.

"Suit yourself," Nick sighed and crawled up toward the pillows. Greg glared at his back; perfect Nick with his perfect fucking procedure and perfect sweetness and perfect ass. Greg couldn't help himself. Before he knew what he was doing his arm was drawn back and then he felt the sting as his palm landed hard and fast with a loud smack.

Nick froze. Greg was breathing heavily, and a sick sort of fear overwhelmed him. What had he done? He was so angry, and now Nick would be angry too. He knew that he knew better; he was better than the people they caught, the ones who snapped and did things they couldn't undo.

He waited in strained silence and watched as Nick slowly turned and looked back over his shoulder, fixing Greg with a strangely triumphant look.

"Gotcha," Nick laughed and wiggled his butt in the air. Greg let out a breath. It was all a game. There had been no call from the lab, no mistake and no reason for the rage that had tumbled up inside him like river rock, hard and unforgiving.

"You asshole!" The sudden relief felt too much like tears in his throat. He lunged forward and grabbed the back of Nick's underwear, pulling it back before releasing it with a satisfying snap.

"Ow!" Nick cried. Greg caught him and wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulders and hips. He pulled him closer, until he felt Nick's ribs press for air.

"You were trying to make me mad," Greg accused, voice rough and embarrassed. He hugged Nick tighter, crushing him.

"You were already mad," Nick pushed back, grinding against Greg's rapidly stiffening cock. "You needed it. You need me."

Of course, Greg realized with a start, Nick was right. He was already angry, and had been for days, weeks even, and Nick had seen it and figured out how to help before Greg had even realized what was happening to him. Just as suddenly as it had flared, the anger was gone, and in its place remained a strange tenderness. He knew what to do now. What Nick needed, Greg would give him in return.

Greg released him and pushed Nick roughly forward until he fell flat on his stomach. He sat on Nick's thighs and scratched his fingers down his back and over his ass.

"I know what you need," Greg taunted him. His voice sounded funny in his ears, wobbly and harsh at the same time. He felt Nick's body shudder beneath him.

"Do it," Nick whispered.

"Say you're sorry," Greg rubbed small, hard circles on Nick's asscheeks and felt the muscles flex under his hands. Nick panted but remained stubbornly silent. "Say it," he repeated, and smacked him hard. Nick's answering groan was exhilarating and Greg felt his cock jump in response. He spanked him again and watched Nick's ass jiggle from the blow.

"Fuck," Nick moaned. "I'll say whatever you want, just keep that up."

Greg stopped and simply rested his hands on Nick's ass, enjoying the feel of him humping up against his palms, pleading. He scooted back until he could lean down and press his face against the thick cotton. Greg hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled until the fabric was stretched tight and translucent across Nick's ass, then lay his mouth there and breathed hotly against the dark shadow of his crack. He could smell Nick through the tight weave, clean and musky.

"You can take it out on me," Nick shifted and lay on his arms so he could reach his dick and squeeze himself with both hands. "I know how it gets." Greg bit at him, right below the edge of his underwear where the skin was softest. "Ah, yeah," Nick moaned. "Let it out. I want you to. I want you to—"

Greg cut him off with another hard nip that left Nick gasping.

"Shut up," Greg rasped. He licked him then, right through his underpants, until they were wet with spit and pressed against Nick's hole. "You like that?" he asked, and stabbed at him with his tongue. "You like it when I tease you, don't you." Nick made a choked sound and rocked against his hands as Greg continued to work the damp, scratchy fabric back and forth over his asshole. He moaned when Greg stopped and yanked his hands out from under him. They were already wet - Nick was leaking, and that thought left Greg hot and breathless with a fierce desire singeing his skin.

"Get up," he commanded. "Get on all fours." Nick complied, and Greg pushed his underwear down to mid-thigh. "I'm gonna eat your ass until you're begging me to fuck you," he promised. Then he bent and spread Nick's ass wide open to his tongue. He licked and sucked until Nick's legs trembled, and then started in on his balls and the smooth skin at the bottom of his cock. Nick was panting hard; he had one hand braced against the headboard while the other played with his nipples.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you," Greg teased. He took Nick's cock in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Nick moaned. "Look how fucking hard you are for me. You want me to jack you?" he asked, stroking lightly with his fingertips. Nick shook his head even as he leaned into the pressure.

"I could suck you off," Greg mused. "Take you right down my throat and let you fuck my face until you come." Nick shuddered. "But that's not what you need, is it?" Greg asked knowingly.

"No," Nick's reply was hoarse. He seemed to think for a moment, and then slowly leaned down onto folded arms so that his face rested on the bedclothes. "Please," he said, soft and muffled. Greg needed no other encouragement; he got the lube from the bedside table and slicked himself up, working his cock with long, thorough strokes.

He kneeled and moved forward until his cock rested between Nick's cheeks, then rocked slowly back and forth, teasing Nick's ass with the easy, wet slide of flesh over his tender hole. Nick leaned back and tried to increase the pressure, and that got him another slap.

"Please," Nick begged. Greg laughed and gripped his own cock, using it to smack Nick's butt and asshole and balls.

"You're so fucking hot," Greg said, guiding the tip of his cock in small circles around Nick's opening, slippery with lube and precome.

"You're so fucking," Nick paused with a grunt as Greg tugged on his balls, "_mean_."

"You love it," Greg pushed the tip of his cock inside him and slid in with one long, smooth stroke. "Tight," he groaned. "I'm going to fuck you raw and there's nothing you can do about it." He felt Nick clench around him at that, and began to move, faster, until Nick was grunting in time with his thrusts.

"God, yes," Nick was wild, pushing back to meet him, tilting until Greg hit him just right, just so. "Fuck!"

Greg lifted his hands from Nick's hips and crossed them behind his head, now thrown back. He pumped in and out in a ragged, frantic rhythm, only partly conscious of Nick's lusty groans and curses. It felt so good to bury himself deeper and deeper, until he couldn't feel anything else but the rush of blood in his veins and his throbbing, aching cock. An intense and massive pleasure rose up his spine and crackled out along his limbs, and behind it came a sickening and surprising rush of memory, image after image: each picture he'd taken with gloved hands, each drop measured and counted, every face, every name; everyone who couldn't be helped, and everyone who couldn't be taken in. It shocked him, this overwhelming release.

When he came it was with a sharp, hideous cry. His body moved of it's own accord, racked, in and out, and he vaguely heard Nick as he, too, spent himself. He collapsed then, stunned, and when Nick turned and took him in his arms, he felt tears on his own face.

"Baby," Nick said softly, questioning. Greg said nothing. How could he explain it? He knew he was crying now, blubbering something, pressing his face against Nick's chest. He felt the sheets being tucked around him, and now Nick hugged him with strong arms like a cage or maybe a brace, holding him together.

"I know," Nick soothed. "I know how it is. It's okay." He lay with him and stroked Greg's back until he was quiet again. Nick turned off the television and the lights and drew him safely into the dark.

"Well," Greg said in a watery voice, "That was weird." He wanted to say more but couldn't. Nick kissed him softly.

"It's okay," Nick repeated.

"You're not freaked out?" Greg sounded doubtful.

"I'd be worried about you if you _didn't_ feel angry and sad and scared after a day like today."

"You," Greg pressed the word against his neck. He shivered at the light touches Nick traced over the scars that still laced his back and shoulders. "Where'd you learn to be so wise?" he joked.

"Last year," Nick answered. "In a box." He said it plainly, as if it were nothing. Greg was too tired to cry again. He let out a long breath and his head sagged against Nick's shoulder.

"Jesus," he muttered. "We're so screwed up."

"Yep," Nick agreed.

"It's not funny," Greg pinched him. "It's a disaster."

"Yeah, you're absolutely right." Nick tucked Greg's head under his chin and pulled him closer.

"You're crazy, you know that, right?"

"Ye-"

"Stop agreeing with me!" Greg cried, but he was already laughing. "I hate you."

"I know," Nick sighed happily. "I hate you too."

They slept, tangled together, and they did not dream.

(fin)


End file.
